Just like this
This was pretty much how I imagined motherhood would be. I won’t clue Tilly in on the full story just yet.
All posts tagged: #motherhood
Running with a side of Womanly Shame
A desperate search for a valid reason to have a child-free weekend, combined with some sort of downhill-slide-to-forty crisis saw me signing up for an out of town marathon. My lofty goals were downgraded to a half marathon after I hurt my leg, although I didn’t mind much as it gave me great pleasure to say I had a “sport related injury” as if I was someone who sports often enough to sustain a sporty injury. With my parents looking after the girls, my husband and I set off on what I’d started imagining as a weekend of drinking and eating with a 21km jog slotted in. I’d usually rather give birth again than endure a five hour car journey through winding scenery, but without kids it was pure JOY. We had uninterrupted conversations the whole way. No one whined. No one threw up. No Wiggles music was played. No one demanded snacks. Actually that last one isn’t true – I demanded we stop and get a Snickers bar, just so I could eat chocolate …
Deception
Tilly: “I hid the hairbrush so you can’t brush my hair. Absoluuuutely don’t look under THAT cushion”. Amy: “I made you something at school for Mothers’ Day. But I’m not supposed to give it to you until Sunday, and I won’t tell you what it is, even if you ask me, cos it’s a surprise. OK IT’S FUDGE! I MADE YOU FUDGE! THERE’S ALSO A CARD!” My daughters need to work on their deception skills if they ever plan on sneaking out when they’re teenagers.
RoBeerBots
Olé! Proost! Cheers, bro. It’s a multicultural dress-up evening
At least it’s organic
“Mum, why do you eat salmon?” “Because I like it, and it’s good for you.” “Well, I think it’s disgusting.” *eats own booger*
Unicorns fix everything
My mother-in-law went into town to get a humidifier to help the girls’ coughs. She forgot the humidifier, and came home with Frozen tracksuits and a giant unicorn instead. Either way, they seem remarkably better.
Shots before dawn aren’t what they used to be
It’s party central here! We’ve been lining up the shot glasses since before the break of dawn…to get the dregs from the medicine bottles the syringe can’t reach. And yes, that is a syringe floating in one of the bottles. I accidentally dropped it in mid-draw-up and can’t get it out, so I’ve decided to run it as an art installation.
The grossest request
Sure, I grew her, she emerged from my body, I’ve been puked, pooped and peed on by her…but THIS is the grossest part of parenting. The bit where they try to blow up their own balloon for a solid 20 minutes, then admit defeat and say “you blow it up for me, Mama”. *shudder* Even the cat can’t watch.
Tats and red faces
Yesterday we were standing in the supermarket checkout line behind a beautiful woman with a moko (for my non-NZ friends, a moko is a traditional Maori facial tattoo). The questions came at me thick, fast and loud from both little girls about “the lady with drawings on her face”. I explained what a moko is and then apologized to the lady in case my inquisitive children had caused offense. She assured me no offense was taken. Then I blushed a deeper red than the bottle of Pinot nestled in my shopping basket as Amy loudly announced, “MY MUM HAS A TATTOO ON HER BUM! Would you like to see it? Mum, show the lady your bum!” When I got that tattoo at 20, something told me I’d probably regret it one day (by “something” I mean “my dad”).
Heading Out Of Town
There’s a saying: “it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey”. I’m fairly confident that whoever said it had never been on a car trip with small children. I tend to try and blur the memories of long drives because it puts me off going anywhere, ever, but generally there’s a lot of bribery, silly games, pulling over, body contortions that a gymnast would be proud of to reach dropped toys, endless snacks, a decent amount of whinging, and the occasional puke into a hastily proffered container. But even after the most fraught car trips, there’s a lovely moment when I realise we got there safely, and can relish the thought of happy times just waiting to happen. Sometimes that lovely moment doesn’t hit until well after the house has been frantically cleared of mouse poo and the unpacked car has been pulled apart to find missing Snuggly Bunny, but it does hit eventually. Going away even with just our little family isn’t the casual after-thought it used to be before we had children…it’s …
McPikelets 